by Brian A. Wilkins
5/16/2009

This day corresponds with Tuesday, September 9, 2008. Click here for the complete "55 Days In Maricopa County Jail" series.

Another day in the zoo. Since most of the guys I considered friends are now gone, there are only a few human-like creatures in here and they all make funny noises and smell bad. From pounding on tables, which apparently is a way to make beats for rap songs to snarling all night while they sleep. Truthfully, some of the noises I've heard some of these people make, I've never heard any other humans make before. Really, at night, it sounds like a bunch of chimpanzees, elephants, and hyenas in cages. And this place really has the feel of a zoo when those onlookers wearing white shirts and black ties stand behind these glass windows simply "observing" the animal activity. I always make sure to lie down on that bunk so I'm out of their viewing periphery. I guess you could also view this place as a dog kennel with a bunch of unwanted mutts in cages that howl, snarl, fart, and bark all night. 14 more days. Yes, 14. I actually will not be able to free myself until after midnight on the 22nd, so that will actually be the 23rd.

This really annoying "kinfolk" keeps bugging me about his ability to make money and his desire for a "black mafia." He keeps calling himself "mafioso" and says he is making contacts with all the races in here. But all you need to know about this dude is that he ate the leftover crumbs from a bag of pork rinds in my garbage. "You be throwing away food, man?" he said. What's funny is that Rodney had finished off that bag, but at the bottom of bags of pork rinds are these really hard ones that you can't really chew. So Rodney had all of the remains in his mouth, but spit them back into that bag, then threw them away. And Mr. Mafioso, while eating them, was like "you sure there's nothing wrong with these?" I reiterated to him that they were in the garbage and if he chooses to eat garbage, that is his own right. That unibrotha, KD, also kept talking about being a "mafioso." To this day, I still don't know what that means, nor do I care to know.

My comb/knife is coming along, but it is definitely much more difficult than I thought it would be. It's taking a lot more effort than I thought it would. But I'm definitely looking forward to the 23rd. Freedom by any means necessary. Again, I'm not going to play these nigger games Euro-America's justice system wants me to play. I'll definitely write some sort of letter to the American Free Press, and maybe Ebony, and maybe Al-Jazeera English so the story is told. Like I've repeatedly said, if I actually did something to deserve this, I'd take the punishment and move on. I guess there is a 2 percent chance I may see the light of day again, depending on how the upcoming puppet shows go. I've been thinking about my friend Alison a lot since I had that dream the other day. He has multiple sclerosis, and I hope she is doing well. But of course I'm in jail, so I'm also thinking about her sexually.

So what is going to happen at death? Is it Rodney's Jehovah Witness theory, in that you are just gone? Like when you blow out a candle, the flame didn't actually go anywhere...it is just gone. I absolutely do not believe that Judeo-Christian heaven/hell mess so I won't even ponder that. Or is it my belief in that your soul is free to go where ever it wants in the universe once it is freed from this human incarceration. Will I be able to have a round table discussion with Johnnie Cochran, Alice Paul, and Malcolm X? Will I see my dad, sister, grandmother, and great grandmother? Will I see Danielle, who died last year? No, probably not to all the aforementioned. I think you are just gone. I assume I will just slowly start to fade out as my body drains of its most vital fluid, and I'll lie down, close my eyes, and fall asleep in a pool of my own blood, never to wake up again. I mean, human life is creating in a pretty simple, crude method...the goo from a guy and the gamete of a girl come together. Seems pretty simple to make a "soul." It's a little harder for me to believe that souls are recycled. That would mean there are likely close to 100 billion human souls out there somewhere since humans have been around for about 2 million years. And if this is the case (recycled souls), why was Earth chosen as the living-human planet? Maybe there are thousands of human planets out there and I can choose which one I want to live on next? Maybe our souls are recycled into other animals and plants? I really have no idea. It's most likely you're just dead and gone. That crazy to think about. The human soul seems more complex than that. Would I rather be dust than be in this place? Yes. I simply will not do this. I will just be NOTHING...but then again, "nothing" can't "be" because "being" is "living" or "existing." So I'll just NOTHING...does that make sense?

That's kind of depressing to think about, but I'll be virtual nothing even if I walk out of this place alive. Everybody knows what happens to "a black" once they've been exposed to this system: you can't get jobs, you are "blacklisted" for apartments, and will likely be forced to commit crimes just to live. After I file the comb for about another hour tonight, I will start writing letters to those aforementioned media outlets. Who knows if they will even get them or even care. But at least I'll be at peace in that I tried. 14 more days. You can do it.